


regular miracles

by haipollai



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: 5 + 1 Fic, Friends to Lovers, Jewish Bucky Barnes, M/M, Not keeping kosher
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-15
Updated: 2015-01-15
Packaged: 2018-03-07 16:17:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3177008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haipollai/pseuds/haipollai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She thinks she might cry. She can’t though, she just did her makeup and there’s no time to fix it. Dinner needs to be made before she leaves for work. Steve can make his own, but she doesn’t want him to have to. So she forces her shoulders straight and steps out.</p>
<p>The boy’s head shoots up and he sits up straighter. Steve is frowning at some papers so she goes over to kiss him on the cheek, knowing he’s stuck and too stubborn to be distracted. </p>
<p>“Tell me who your friend is, Steve.”</p>
<p>(Five times Bucky stole someone else's bacon and the one time he finally cooked it himself)</p>
            </blockquote>





	regular miracles

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to queercap/defcontwo for betaing and enabling <3  
> there's a handful of yiddish in this, the most important is treif which is something non-kosher

Sarah is surprised when Steve comes home from school with another boy in tow. She loves her boy but she knows he will never be the center of a crowd. The boy talks a lot, she can hear them as they settle in the tiny kitchen while she changes in the bedroom. Steve must not know she’s home so for a second she lingers to listen.

“So you gotta know some maths,” the boy was saying. “It’s just maths.”

"Yea but-"

"No way, no buts Rogers."

Sarah has to step away from the door. She knows her boy is smart, but a mother’s belief is one thing. Life has always torn Steve down and she knows even though he’s only thirteen he’s tired. He’s already talking about leaving school, just finding work. There’s so much he’s missed at school, so much time he’s spent sick. He doesn’t say anything to her face but he doesn’t have to.

And now he has someone to help. She thinks she might cry. She can’t though, she just did her makeup and there’s no time to fix it. Dinner needs to be made before she leaves for work. Steve can make his own, but she doesn’t want him to have to. So she forces her shoulders straight and steps out.

The boy’s head shoots up and he sits up straighter. Steve is frowning at some papers so she goes over to kiss him on the cheek, knowing he’s stuck and too stubborn to be distracted. 

“Tell me who your friend is, Steve.”

That gets him to look up. “Oh um. Sorry ma, this is James Barnes.”

“Bucky, ma’am.” The boy has a crooked grin and looks like he is destined for trouble but there’s something honest in his eyes that she likes.

“Good to meet you, Bucky. I’m making dinner for Steve before I leave, will you be staying long enough to eat?”

“If it’s no problem, Mrs. Rogers.”

She turns to the stove, they're all used to pretending to have privacy. Bucky is patient, explaining the work the teacher did in class. Steve catches on quickly so she picks off a few scraps of bacon from the pan and puts it on a plate for them. 

Steve grins up at her but Bucky freezes, eyes wide. "Is that pork, ma'am?"

She gives him a quizzical look. "Yes, bacon."

"Something wrong, Barnes?" Steve says. His nose crinkles up. “You don’t like bacon?”

"Don't be rude, Steve. Everyone is allowed their own tastes." She gives him a stern look before returning to the stove. 

“Sorry,” he says quickly. “Sorry, Bucky,” he tacks on as an afterthought. 

She can hear the buzz of whispers but tries not to focus on them and when she turns back with sandwiches prepared, Bucky is eating small bites of the bacon, shoulders slightly hunched as if he’s nervous about someone seeing him. “Are you alright, Bucky?”

He blushes at being caught. “First time, ma’am. Bubbe would be pissed enough to spank me if she knew.”

“Don’t worry,” Sarah says. “It’ll be our secret.”

Bucky beams.

-

It’s a Saturday night and there’s still a lingering scent of candles and spice in the apartment. Bucky and Rebecca are curled up in their parents’ bed, kicked out of the living room while they listen to the radio. The two youngest are already asleep so they can’t be in the room all four of them share together.

“Are you going to see Steve tomorrow?” Rebecca asks after a moment of quiet. The sound of the radio filters through to them and they both know the news isn’t good. 

“Probably, why?”

“Can I come with? Mama’s gonna make me join her at shul again if I don’t.”

“If you want. Won’t be that exciting.” He knows Steve or Mrs. Rogers won’t mind, it won’t be the first time Rebecca’s tagged along but never on a Sunday though. “Aren’t you supposed to work on Sunday’s at the bakery?”

She shrugs. “Said they don’t need me.” She gives Bucky her best wide eyed pleading look, which she knows always works. “Please, I can’t sit through service again, I’ll lose it.”

“Don’t you have your own friends?” He grumbles, but he knows he’s already giving in even if it means she’ll know how he sneaks treif food at the Rogers’. This is Becca, though, the girl who somehow snuck vodka to him the night of his bar mitzvah so she could get him and Daniel Stein drunk while their parents gossiped with the rabbi. She’s already kissed two of her classmates to see if it was worth it. She won’t lecture him on rules.

“Oh don’t be like that, Bucky,” she pouts at him.

He sighs, hoping she understands how extremely put out he is by this request. “Alright, alright. I’ll save you and help you disappoint our parents.” She elbows him in the side which turns into him trying to tickle her and their father appears in the door to shush them when their laughter gets too loud.

-

Steve flops down straight into bed; he can hear Bucky kicking around in the kitchen and a second later the bed dips when he squeezes in beside him. Bucky’s still sixteen, he’s still living with his family in a too tiny apartment in the Lower East Side so he stays with Steve whenever he can.

“I’m hungry,” Bucky says.

Steve mumbles into his pillow. He just came off a twelve hour shift at Mr. Beck’s pharmacy and doesn’t really feel like getting up again. The last thing he wants is to be at Bucky’s beck and call.

“Steve,” Bucky whines.

Reluctantly, Steve rolls onto his side to look up at him. Bucky just smiles innocently down at him.  
“Fuck you,” Steve says. 

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Come on.” 

"Pretty sure it still counts if you plead for someone else to make it."

"Nah, I checked." Bucky wiggles himself around until he's lying down next to Steve. "Ma got a letter today. Yesterday dunno. Won't let us read it but she and Tatey been arguing about money."

"What about it?" Steve buries his head in the pillow but he’s still listening.

"Setting some aside. We already do, for the babies and all but ma wants it for her family back in the Ukraine. He says we can't afford to.” He goes silent and Steve throws an arm over him, trying to be comforting.

“You’re telling me this so I get up and cook for you,” he grumbles after a minute.

“Jewish guilt at its finest,” Bucky laughs. “It working?”

Steve groans but pushes himself up; his own stomach has started grumbling at him so he figures he should at least help himself out. He doesn’t keep meat often, not worth spending the money when he’s only feeding himself but he had a good week so he has some leftover bacon. He gets the last of it cooking now, watching Bucky drift closer out of the corner of his eye.

“Your ma’s gotta know,” Steve says. Bucky’s been sneaking bacon while visiting the Rogers’ family for years.

Bucky shrugs and nudges him with an elbow. “What she gonna do? Tell me I can’t see my best pal?”

“Your ma?” Steve laughs and smacks his hand when he tries to reach towards the pan. “Pretty sure she’d skin me alive, and where’d I get any good bread if she stops sending it over with you?”

“It’s challah, not bread you goy.”

“Fuck you, stop eating my bacon.”

Bucky laughs, as if their conversation from earlier was a lifetime ago, some other flat, some other bed. Another lifetime. Steve’s okay with that, with letting Bucky steal his food while everything else moves around them.

-

They’re huddled around a fire somewhere in France. For once, Dum Dum is grateful for the drizzle. They have some embers burning and don't need to worry about smoke traveling far. Dernier scrounged real meat from somewhere. Dum Dum doesn't care if the animal was healthy or not, it's not canned. 

They're quiet, waiting for it to cook. There's no forgetting where they are, nothing to lift the weight of the war. He looks on all these men as brothers but the knoll they've bunkered against isn't any kind of home. 

Bucky breaks the silence, shifting around so he's resting with his head on Steve's shoulder and yawns. "Know what I miss?"

"Gonna tell us all your conquests back home?" Gabe teases. 

Bucky sniffs as if Gabe’s question is beneath him. "Bread. Every Friday night, good fucking challah bread."

Steve shrugs his shoulders but Bucky doesn't move. "Don't be an ass."

"I’m sure ma will make a whole loaf just for you when we get home," Bucky says. He finally leans away so he can Steve a considering look. “You can probably eat a whole loaf on your own now.” 

"Could never cook for shit but I make some amazing chicken soup," Gabe chimes in. 

Dum Dum is pretty sure getting nostalgic like this is a bad idea. They'll just be morose over what they don't have but doesn't say anything to stop it. 

"I'd kill someone for a good cup of tea," Monty adds. 

"Kill enough Krauts and you'll get your wish," Bucky says. 

"What about you, Dernier?" Steve asks. 

He shrugs. "Don't want much."

"No eclairs?" Monty asks. "Crepes?"

"Is that all you know of French cuisine?" 

Dum Dum looks up at the darkening sky, knowing the two of them could quickly descend into bickering. Steve takes over checking the meat before their dinner becomes a casualty. 

Bucky leans in closer to him, nose screwing up slightly before he gets up and walks away without warning. Dum Dum shoots Steve a look, knowing he must have some idea. 

"It's pork," he says softly but Monty and Dernier go quiet. Everyone is looking now.

"He don't eat?" Dernier asks, looking completely flabbergasted at the thought. 

"It's complicated." Steve chews the inside of his cheek, he knows the full story but isn’t going to share. They all know better than to ask, it’s not his story and they respect Barnes too much to go behind his back. Dum Dum gets to his feet and follows the direction Barnes went into the gloom. 

He's not that far luckily, he might be brash but he's not stupid.

"You could have just said," he says to Bucky's back.

"Used to eat it." He rubs a hand over his cheek, they all need a good shave. "Would sneak over to the Rogers’ place, steal a few pieces. Everyone would pretend nothing had happened." He doesn't look at Dum Dum. "People like me are dying and I-I'm what? Throwing away our traditions?"

Dugan takes the step forward so they're shoulder to shoulder. "Not about what you eat, kid."

"I know. I'll pass today, though." He hunches into himself, as if he’s guilty.

"No one's gonna hold it against you,” Dugan says quickly. “Not with us."

Bucky loosens up and bumps his shoulder against his. "Know that too." 

"Oh yeah?"

"Fuck you, I'm a team player." 

The tension eases from him so Dugan throws his arm over his shoulders, getting the feeling it would be ok now. "You're a brat." 

When they get back to the fire, Gabe is pulling the pieces of meat from the embers asthe rest hold out their standard issue tin mugs for their serving. Bucky wedges himself in between Steve and Monty. 

He ends up stealing a small piece from Steve but no one says anything about it. 

-

"It is stupid," Sam says. "But you're pretty stupid so I'm not surprised."

"Hey," Steve laughs and throws a dish towel at him. "That's a national icon you're insulting."

"Big fucking deal. Not enough spine to take it, Rogers?"

They're moving around Steve's kitchen post-run. They take turns each morning, whose apartment they go to once Steve got a new place and out of Sam's guest room. It's become routine. 

"Can take whatever you got, Wilson." There's bacon in the pan and Sam pours out coffee for both of them though he still doesn't get why Steve drinks it. Sam notices Bucky first, lingering silently by the entrance. He stays with Steve mostly, though once he showed up at Sam’s looking haggard and confused. Sam takes him to all the meetings, lets him sit silently in the back while others share.

“Coffee?” Sam offers.

Bucky nods wordlessly and accepts the invitation to come closer. From what Sam’s gathered, the space is a lingering habit. No one wanted the Winter Soldier too close. Steve glances over and quickly gets down another mug which he passes to Sam for him to pour for Bucky.

He finds it a little hard to believe they never dated before, there’s an intimacy about them. Something not even their traumas could erase or cut out. Seventy years later and they still move around each other without needing to share a word.

Sam has learned that Bucky takes his coffee sweet, something Steve has known since they were boys to his disgust. There’s a promise for the future in the way Steve wrinkles his nose at the spoonfuls of sugar without any of them needing to say a word. One day they’ll have inside jokes and easy banter again. It’s possible to even see them getting there.

“Thanks,” he says when Sam passes the mug to him, his metal hand curling around the ceramic. He’s wedged himself somehow between the countertop and Steve, his right arm against Steve’s side. 

The contact is a surprise, even though they’re both used to it now. Once Bucky’s been given permission to be close, he keeps himself there, trying to stay in arm’s reach, touching if he can.

“Nice out?” He asks, his voice still rough from sleep.

“Finally getting warmer,” Steve says, relief obvious in his voice.

“Figures now that it doesn’t matter you give a shit about the cold,” Bucky says, mostly into his coffee, looking like he’s ready to take the words back if Steve gets upset. They all know why Steve hates the cold.

Steve laughs though. “Guess I just got less to prove.”

Sam rolls his eyes. Steve’s got a chip on his shoulder bigger than the entire city, but the moment is too good to call his bullshit. The bacon is dumped on a plate and set in reach of all three of them. Bucky eyes it for a second and Sam is about to say it’s free to take when he reaches out and rips off a small piece.

There’s a look in Steve’s eye as he watches. Bucky is quick, darting in as if he’s trying to sneak it but he glances up at Sam at the last minute. He looks like he might drop the piece, not even enough to be called a bite, but then he smiles sheepishly and pops it in his mouth.

“Treif,” he says with a small shrug.

“As if that ever stopped you,” Steve says, teasing as carefully as Bucky did before.

“Doesn’t count, not mine.”

-

Bucky finds him sitting on the couch in the middle of the night, staring at an infomercial without really watching it. He doesn’t ask about the nightmares that keep Steve up, he knows he features in some and doesn’t want to hear about his ghost.

He leaves Steve there and heads into the kitchen, not sure what he can really do to help but he needs to do something. Quiet comfort has never been his strong suit.

He focuses on what he knows. Steve needs distraction, he needs to do something, and he probably hasn’t eaten since dinner. So he fishes through the fridge for something to cook. There isn’t much there; Bucky doesn’t feel comfortable out in public yet and Steve hasn’t had a chance in a few days.

There’s bacon, though,which Bucky has never cooked himself but it’s never looked that hard. He gets some started in the pan and a minute later Steve shuffles in from the living room. The TV is still on, the sound filtering in from the other room, still playing the awful infomercial. It’s just background noise, something outside the buzzing they have in their own heads.

“Did I wake you?” Steve asks.

“Nah. Couldn’t sleep either.”

Steve steps into his space, warm and solid right next to him, knowing Bucky prefers the closeness even if he’s never been able to put it into words. The sizzle of the bacon drowns out the infomercial or maybe Bucky’s become better at tuning it out.

“Hey, Buck…” Steve murmurs. He glances up just as Steve leans down and Bucky’s taken aback by just how simple it is. “You keep stealing my food, think I deserve a kiss.”

“I’m making it this time,” Bucky says, needing to focus on the familiar argument of food before he can focus on the new and unknown. “Have you- has this always…” He trails off, not sure what the right words are. He’s better but sometimes his emotions get too tangled and overwhelming.

“Oh god, I’m not that much of a fuck up to silently carry the torch for 90 years.” Steve’s ears turn pink. “I dunno. But I want it now.”

“Ok.” They’re still pressed close together until Bucky has to get the bacon off the stove.


End file.
